wis·dom
/ˈwizdəm/
noun
the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment; the quality of being wise.
Narnia had always been a free country, until she came along. Jadis was the devil in disguise, and she brought to the kingdom an eternal...
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"I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim."
- Frida Kahlo
Narnia, 2318
The rocking of the ship didn't help with Olivia's drunken state.
She was never a gal who liked drinking; she limited herself to the occasional champagne at the new year's and the rare wine when she was in a fancy Narnian event. But that was it.
Except during that cold night when she didn't have a single sober drop in her body and a bottle of fancy whiskey in her hand. While in Narrowhaven, they had received many gifts: that included alcohol. And how could it go to waste?
Olivia needed to erase the image from her head. She needed the dead picture of her father with the bullet in his head gone, thrown in the trash like the little garbage he was.
But no, he couldn't leave her life. When she had finally managed to forget that horrid man, who never cared about her and shaped an insecure woman, the letter arrived; the money, the house, the bloody boat.
The girl was lying on the ground of the items room, looking at Aslan's golden sculpture. She pointed a lazy finger at his distorted face, vision blurred and distant thoughts.
"Ha!" She hiccuped. "You knew. You know everything, Aslan. And even knowing, you just had to bring me to a boat, right? You just had to- to- remind me of that bitch." She hiccuped again.
Edmund barged inside the room, signing in relief when he saw a giggling Olivia on the ground.
"Bloody hell," He murmured. "You had me dying of worry, love."
The Just King sat next to her, placing her head on his lap. Olivia laughed, poking his nose. "Bop." She said, laughing even harder. The girl moved to take another sip of the whiskey, but Edmund removed the bottle from her hands.
"That's enough of that," He whispered. Edmund ran his hand through her silky hair, carefully brushing the strands. "Why, Olivia?"
She pointed at the sculpture of Aslan. "Him." She giggled. "It's all Aslan, isn't it? He brought me to a ship! Because he hates me!" Olivia laughed.
Edmund signed. "He doesn't hate you, love." He ran another delicate hand in her air. "Quite the contrary. He loves you, and that's why he brought us back to Narnia."
Olivia suddenly stood up, rushing to the window. She opened it, puking overboard. Edmund averted to look at her because he couldn't stand the sight of people throwing up; it made him want to throw up too.
She cleaned her mouth with the back of her hand, stretching herself in the handrail. "By Aslan's sake, I'm going to regret this tomorrow."
Her husband took a few steps towards her, caressing her back. "Let's get you back to our room," He told her. "Get some sleep, and we'll talk later."
